This time Faith did scream, even as she spun to sprint into the cave.
Something caught her dress, stopping her forward movement. Then a hand gripped her shoulder, yanking her backward. She twisted, trying to scramble away from the vise. But another arm wrapped around her middle, dragging her toward the water.
She screamed, but the sound only lasted a second as the hand on her shoulder released, only to close over her mouth like a smothering blanket. A foul stench filled her nostrils, and she could taste the grit on his skin. She couldn’t breathe. Panic surged through her as she clawed at the hands, trying to escape their grip.
He was carrying her forward, along the ledge. Away from the cave.
Where was Steps Right? What was the other man doing to her?
The older woman was shorter than Faith, but likely heavier. And her bones would be far more fragile. If that other brave hoisted her like this, would he break a bone?
Faith fought harder, twisting and kicking and clawing. The arm around her waist cinched so tight, tears sprang to her eyes. If he’d grabbed any higher, he would have broken her ribs.
As he carried her around the edge of the falling water, she craned her neck to find Steps Right. She caught only a flash of movement—the other brave jerking the elderly woman up from where she sat at the water’s edge.
Her ankle. Faith couldn’t let anything happen to the woman who’d saved her father’s life so many years ago. White Horse’s mother.
She fought harder, desperation fueling every movement.
A force struck her head, slamming pain and flashes of light through her vision.
Then blackness closed in.
EIGHTEEN
As the sun dipped low in the sky, casting long shadows across the banks of the river, Grant pulled back on his reins, bringing the sweating gelding to a halt. He slipped to the ground, then led the horse to drink.
“Rest a minute, boy.” He patted the animal’s neck as it drank greedily.
His own belly rumbled for food, so he moved to the back of his saddle and loosened the straps of the saddlebag. As he rummaged for the pack of dried meat Faith had sent with him, his fingers finally found the rough leather of the case. He pulled it out, but this wasn’t the buckskin wrapping he’d expected.
His mind scrambled for what this small, unfamiliar pouch might be. Its long cord was tied like a necklace, but it had come undone on one end. He’d definitely never seen this. Was it something of Faith’s or White Horse’s that had gotten mixed with his things?
He loosened the strings to open it and peered inside. Bluecrystal beads lay nestled within, and his breath caught. Was this the special necklace Faith had brought to give back to Steps Right?
He reached two fingers into the pouch to pull it out but stopped before he touched the beads. Maybe he shouldn’t. If he’d somehow taken it away from her, he had to bring it back. Now.
Carefully, he gripped one of the beads and lifted it. A long string of blue crystals pulled out of the pouch, and he rested them across his hand. This was definitely the necklace. It had to be.
His clumsy fingers trembled as he lifted it back into the pouch. It would be just his luck to break the strand before he could get it back to Faith.
How in the world had it gotten in his saddle pack? She hadn’t put it there on purpose, had she? No, that didn’t make a bit of sense. Her entire reason to search so hard for Steps Right was to give this heirloom back to the woman. She wouldn’t let it out of her possession until that was accomplished.
Once he’d pulled the pouch tightly closed, he tucked it back in the bottom of his saddlebag. The gelding had finished drinking, so he mounted again, then turned the animal back the way they’d come. “We have a delivery to make first. Then we’ll find Will.”
It would be close to dark by the time he made it back to the cave, though. He would have to wait until morning to start again. Disappointment pressed in his chest, but he pushed the feeling aside.
If Faith had realized she’d lost the necklace, she would be frantic. Stopping her distress was more than worth thedelay. In fact, if he were honest with himself, the chance to see her again lightened his spirit.
The ride back seemed to take longer than the first time he traveled this path. But as they neared the cave, his gelding slowed even more. Grant let him ease to a walk, but the horse seemed tense. Its ears twitched, and its nostrils flared.
“Easy there, boy.” He ran a soothing hand along the gelding’s neck. But even as he sought to calm his mount, apprehension settled like a shroud over his own shoulders.
Dusk had fallen heavily, and the familiar landscape now felt fraught with shadows. In twenty strides, he would ride out of the woods and see the waterfall in the distance. He could already hear the murmur of its thunder. Maybe that’s what made his horse uneasy.
Something shifted among the trees ahead, near the edge of the forest. He tensed, reaching for the rifle tucked in its scabbard. He should have had it across his lap. But as he was pulling the weapon out, a figure appeared in the evening light.
He lifted the barrel just as recognition slipped in. White Horse.
